Medea Today

I just had the pleasure and the pain of experiencing a Greek drama--the tragedy known as Medea. This ancient story is of a deep, profound love that produced two beautiful children; but alas, the man betrayed the woman and married someone else. In her anger, she murders the man's new bride, the bride's father, and then her own children. Her hatred and her selfishness grew greater than her love for her children. Her desire for revenge overruled her compassion. In the end, she could not love with as much passion as she could hate, and her hatred infested her soul, seeping out of her pores in a wicked display of contentiousness and unbridled evil.

The hurt in her heart tortured her veins with pain and manifested itself in a hate so engrossing and so complete as to destroy any and all humanity that resided within her. She was captive to her own self execration and malediction. Although there were moments of hope of forgiveness and tenderness particularly as regards her own children, she did not allow those emotions to govern her actions, instead she squelched the good and exacerbated the negative which in turn transformed her into a hate monger with desire to inflict pain on those around her. She acquired a mental disease that infested her.

How often do we allow this to happen? Are we ruled by hatred or by love? What can we do to end the hatred in ourselves and others and replace it with love and gentleness? What are the causes of abhorrence, self-loathing, and violence? Is it possible to end the hate and emphasize the love individually and collectively?

When Medea murdered her children in order to exact revenge upon her scandalous husband she murdered a major portion of herself. When we hate, we are destroying our own soul and we decide whether to love or to hate, to forgive or to seek revenge, to eradicate circumspection, or to practice apostasy. Medea teetered on the brink of insanity, and historically may have crossed the line earlier, but in her lucidity and compassion she nearly conquered her hatred:

And you will nevermore your mother see,

Nor live as ye have done beneath her eye.

Alas, my sons, why do you gaze on me,

Why smile upon your mother that last smile?

Ah me! What shall I do? My purpose melts

Beneath the bright looks of my little ones.

I cannot do it. Farewell, my resolve,

I will bear off my children from this land.Why

should I seek to wring their father's heart,

When that same act will doubly wring my own?

I will not do it. Farewell, my resolve.

Yet, in the end she was unable to keep her self-respect and her dignity by avoiding the ultimate destruction of herself and the ones she loved. She uncontrollably resolved to extinguish all love and in a sense all humanity.

Fortunately, Medea does not represent "Everyman" but she does represent the potential for evil that may lie within us. While she may have relinquished her hold on her powerful evil emotions, we do not have to do so. We, the collective we, do not have to fall into barbarism and selfishness. "Moral action is never automatic; it presupposes intention, free choice. And intention inevitably either begins or must pass through the mind."--Jacob Needleman in Why Can't We Be Good. We can choose to be evil or choose to be good.

It is the preponderance of love in our hearts that prevents the events of Medea. Perhaps God's greatest gift is love. As God loves us, so also should we love others, applying love unequivocally and unconditionally. Art, theater, visual, or music, can teach, train, and guide our behavior both positively and negatively, but in the case of Medea, we learn how not to act and how not to resign ourselves to evil. We gain from the mistakes of others. I hope we apply the lessons well.

Why Teach Music?

Why should we teach music and why should music be included in the curriculum? Related to this question is a general discussion on the role of the arts in education and in culture at large. I believe it is time to consider an integration of the arts in a multitude of dramatic, intellectual, and appealing ways. The old model of separation of the arts into basic disciplines may no longer have the market value of reaching people myopically. Our eclectic world is beginning to demand a creative blend of artistic elements. Those willing to take the step into arts integration are the ones who will make the difference.

Meanwhile, the education of music continues with a myriad of methods, priorities, and results. We teach music because there is a demand to do so. People want to know more about it. We do not teach music simply to provide entertainment at games, events, or movies. We do not teach music because it makes us feel good or meets some kind of emotional need. We do not teach music because we are called to be musicians and we do not know what else to do nor do we teach music because we have a selfish agenda to mold others into our own criterion of musical excellence.

We teach music because we are demanded by culture to do so and because we love it and sense that it makes a difference in people's lives. We teach music because humans need it, respond to it, and those with the knowledge and skills have an obligation to teach it. While there is no question that aptitude in music exists and that talent, to an extent, is innate and difficult to understand, there is also no doubt that music and music making can be educated and can grow through knowledge and effort.

We can all name those who seem to be born with musical gifts and conversely we can all name those who do not seem to have "it." How often have I heard the comment, "I can only play the radio and cannot do that very well." Or "I do not have a musical bone in my body" or "You don't want me in the choir, I would ruin it" or my personal favorite, "I can hardly blow my nose, much less a musical instrument!" Yet, I do not subscribe nor accept any of these views (keep in mind, that I often find myself in the age-old dilemma of respecting the rights of all people to express themselves even though I often disagree with their assessment).

As Shinichi Suzuki says, "Talent can be educated." Music skills can be taught and with knowledge, love of music grows. In college curriculum for music, we teach music theory, music history, performance styles, ensemble experience, and various performance media. We work to encourage the frequent practice of the skills, seek to develop further skills, and impart specific and general knowledge about music to our students. Ultimately we, as teachers, hope to see musical independence with regard to performance and musical communication.

While we tend to teach a narrow concept of music and music literature in the college curriculum, we also desire that the skills gained can be used to communicate a wide variety of music to a wide variety of people. We recognize that all types of music have a place in the human experience but we choose to use the fundamental knowledge of music to lead us to a pathway of excellence in performance and music literature (I realize I just opened Pandora's box with my weak rationalization for why we prefer certain types of music! But let's wait until another day to discuss that one).

Music exists dramatically in culture both globally and individually. Its collective benefits are what makes music universal, social, and vastly communicative. For the individual, however, music takes on a personal design that reaches inside the soul and finds those unspoken emotions and feelings that round out our personal makeup. The human spirit requests music for greater sensitivity to beauty, to experience depth of thought and emotions, and to seek more compassion, gentleness, and gain a greater appreciation of life. In short music improves us and helps us be better people.

Although I hesitate to turn music making into a commodity, in a way it is that very thing for it is traded, sold, and processed as an invaluable tool for all of us. We teach it because we need it and we teach it because we owe it to ourselves and to music itself to be the best musicians we can be. Let us treat it well and let us continue to gain from music as it washes us thoroughly in its magic and its goodness.

Minimal Glass

Pulsing, repetition, subtle changes, static harmonies, unusual orchestrations, vocal inflections, dramatic interjections. All these things and more characterize the music of Philip Glass, a composer of renown whose popularity, sophistication, and musical substance are rare in today's dichotomous musical and entertainment world.

Born in 1937 to a family of music lovers, Glass was eventually formally educated at the Juilliard School and studied with Vincent Persichetti, Darius Milhaud, Nadia Boulanger, with influences from the music of John Cage and Morton Feldman. Further study of the music of Ravi Shankar and Indian rhythms combined with the minimal art of writer Samuel Beckett ultimately led to a development in music often called Minimalism (although Glass does not use that term to describe his music).

His "breakthrough" into success occurred with a collaboration with Robert Wilson in Einstein on the Beach, an opera that experiments with sound and communication through repetition of text and musical concepts with analogies referencing concern with nuclear arms and other modern themes. Einstein led easily to a film trilogy including Koyaanisqatsi, Powaqqatsi, and eventually Naqoyqatsi. All works for film with background music of Philip Glass.

In addition to 8 symphonies, concertos, solo works, quartets, and theater works, Glass has collaborated with Paul Simon, David Bowie, Lou Reed, and Linda Ronstadt. In recent years his growing popularity finds him more involved in film scoring including Hamburger Hill, Hours, The Illusionist, Undertow, Roving Mars, and Notes on a Scandal. Glass continues to make remarkable strides in an industry often steeped in searching for music to entertain the popular masses. His unique musical language is mesmerizing, enchanting, mysterious, dramatic, and difficult to define.

On the surface, his "sound" seems devoid of melody and direction and often harmonically static. Yet, careful listening reveals subtle changes, engaging energy, coloristic orchestrations, stunning drama, and musical depth not often found in film music of today.

What both confuses and intrigues me is that Minimalism was once considered an experimental, avant garde style of music reserved for college study with quasi-peripheral performances in little known concert halls specializing in performance art and improvisation. But, defying the odds, Glass has become immensely popular, prolific, influential, and profound. Minimalism or process music as it has been called, may have originally been a creative tool for a few composers and performers seeking a new form of expression and ingenuity, but it has now become a part of main-stream musical thought with a wide and quite appreciative audience. The people wanted it, the market needed it, and the musicians responded. Leading the pack is Philip Glass.

Give it a try sometime. It could drive you crazy or you may just love it. Whatever your reaction, do not doubt that minimalism and the music of Philip Glass is here to stay. For more information, go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philip_Glass or http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001275/

I am not sure which of his works to recommend above the others but consider Koyaanisqatsi or Undertow or perhaps one of the symphonies. It is all worth hearing. Approach it openly and emotionally and you may just discover the world of Philip Glass and you may just like it!

The Great Debate

There was a vital feeling of restless anticipation in the room before the debate began. Who would win? What would the discussion entail? Were they enemies or friends? These were just some of the questions in the minds of the audience as they entered the room, found a seat, and tried to avoid staring at the two gentlemen in the corner who were attired in Revolutionary costumes from 18th century America. One man wore a robe and looked quite the clergyman with a white wig and a serious expression and the other in more casual yet regal garments that spoke of opulence yet acceptance of common man. Sort of an "everyman" look but in a distinctly arrogant manner. No, the debate was not between Lincoln and Douglas but, instead, was between Jonathan Edwards and Benjamin Franklin, aka Jay Smith and me, Robert Tucker.

We began with some biographical information followed by a brief discourse on general thought and philosophy. Then the fun began. I, Ben, asked Jay, Jonathan, what good he had accomplished in the world? He responded with pious statements of spirituality and theology, mentioning man's depravity, man's need for God, and various Calvinistic tenants drawn from scripture. He delivered his lines with great passion, frequently mentioning the value of a spiritual life and reaching man's inner being.

After admonishing him for his excessive emotions and reminding him that a man of reason should always act in moderation, I proceeded to outline my position on man's role in the world as being obligated to help each other. I mentioned my deism and what that entails and he talked about the need for a God centered world and the value of spiritual matters, worship, and commitment to Biblical teachings and specifically the teachings of Christ. I said that I valued the teachings of Jesus as well but also valued Socrates as an equal (please remember this is Benjamin Franklin talking not me!).

I extolled the virtues of my inventions, my curiosity, my status as a gentleman, and my far-reaching contributions to improving the human condition. Unfortunately, I reminded the audience that I was a poor husband and not even a very good father to my children. I believed in morality, the greater good, and philanthropy, but not necessarily a spiritual relationship with God. I also frequently reminded the audience that I, Ben Franklin, became a wealthy man through my inventions but also from my involvement in the publishing world.

In the end, Benjamin Franklin was a remarkable inventor, humanitarian, public servant, statesmen, and diplomat. However his Christianity was that of Deism and he often displayed a lack of commitment to his marriage and his family. Edwards found that hole in Ben's life and emphasized that with great passion! Ben, of course, reminded him to calm down and use his reason rather than his emotions.

Who won the debate? Probably neither, but we certainly had great fun!

A Blessing

Her pain was extensive as she fought the cancer that would eventually take her life. The dreams they had made together had been altered upon hearing the news from the doctor about the leukemia that had invaded her body. While the ultimate prognosis was not good, there was hope for at least a temporary and comfortable life. Unfortunately, she needed surgery in order to prolong her life and give her a more pain free existence. In any normal situation, the surgery would not be a problem except in this case, it was cost prohibitive. All their savings was depleted and the surgery would cost $25,000.

He had quit work a couple of years earlier in order to spend time with the love of his life in her last few years, but having no resources in which to help her, he was nearing the end of his emotional strength as well as his financial ability. The small farm he owned would need to be sold with the hope he could keep the house. The time neared to make the decision to sell the land which would allow for the surgery. Did he for one second consider keeping the land, avoiding the surgery, and let her life end? The answer, of course, was no. His love was enduring and complete. He would be willing to sacrifice it all for her comfort and happiness.

Years before, when he had purchased the small farm, he had also purchased a strip of land by the highway that was worthless but part of the original deal. It was just a couple of acres with no value and in fact he had almost forgotten that he owned it. Traffic noise, excessive rocks, and little vegetation rendered the little strip virtually useless. Nevertheless, he did own it.

As the time neared for the decision to sell the farm, he received a call from a power company asking about the small strip of land by the highway. He said he did own it but in all honesty it had little to no use to anyone. The power company quickly offered him $25,000 for the land saying they needed it to complete their power connection to the area. The transaction was completed the next day and he took the money to the hospital.

The surgery was successful and she lived several more years in comfort and they were able to spend their time marveling at the miracles and blessings God had sent their way. She is gone now and he spends time on his farm. Everyday he drives by the strip of land he sold and thanks God for the blessing.

As he told me the story, I found myself choked up and unable to respond. It was one of the most beautiful stories I had ever heard. God's love and care is boundless and shows itself in so many remarkable and special ways. Thank you, my friend, for sharing your story with me.

The Family Angel

As I surfaced, she cried out in desperation, "I can't find Jordan." I dove down to the bottom, in panic, and looked through the weeds, brush, and in the rocks, but came up empty-handed and out of breath. I took a quick breath and went down again to continue my wild search for my youngest son who could not swim. This time my search included an inconsolable fear that I was too late. I clawed through the murk, mud, and darkness reaching out to feel a human form, my 3 year old son. But I search in vain and felt an impending despondency that threatened to rule my every being.

Angels do come in different forms at different times and can be found within your own family. In our case, our oldest son became an angel at a crucial time. We decided to vacation at a camp and experience the outdoors--hiking, sightseeing, swimming, and perhaps even some canoeing. Although experienced in boating and comfortable in the water, I have spent very little time in a canoe and was not entirely at ease with the process of getting in and out of a canoe.

Nevertheless, we enjoyed our time of hiking and playing outdoors and it became time for all of us to enjoy a little canoe trip down the small river. I steadied the canoe and the family got in as I held the side of it. I recall the words from 9 year old son, Jacob, as he reminded us to put on a life jacket. I confidently stated we could put the life jackets on once we were all settled in the canoe. Fortunately, Jacob decided to go ahead and place the jacket around his body. The rest of the family gently got in the canoe and it was my turn.

I stepped in the canoe the way I normally get in a boat, but the canoe began to shake and weave and within seconds flipped over and everyone ended up in the water. As I fell in the water, it occurred to me that the small river was in fact deep with fast moving water beneath the surface. As quickly as possible, I surfaced and my wife who was having a little trouble staying afloat said, "I can't find Jordan." Jordan was about 3 years old at the time and had not learned how to swim.

Upon my second return to the surface as my lungs and heart neared the breaking point, I saw our oldest son, Jacob, holding Jordan by his arms and paddling toward the bank. Jacob had seen the need, grabbed Jordan, saved his life and took him to land where the rest of the family had safely arrived moments earlier.

I learned many lessons that day including hold onto your glasses when you go under water, put on life jackets before entering the canoe, enter the canoe from the bow not the side, and most of all be grateful for the times when an angel enters the scene in the form of a person. Thank you, Jacob, for being you.

Amaranthine Angels

My position on angels and their existence was asked of me the other day. I answered that I believed in them but did not understand them. Being of a somewhat cautious, suspicious nature with leanings toward cynicism, believing in angels does not come lightly nor easily to me; yet there are events that seem to be undeniably guided by unseen forces and shaped by mystery and magic that is difficult to label and impossible to define. Acknowledging such forces that operate outside the realm of the sensing reality that encompasses our perception is antithetical to the power philosophy we love to embrace. In other words, we like to think we are in control of all facets of our life. But in truth, we are not. There are simply too many unexplained events that demonstrate how little control we actually have.

This does not mean that we are devoid of free will or that the concept of choice and human experience is all predetermined, but it does mean that overt and external circumstances cannot always be planned or ordered in advance. It has been said that we are shaped by events and that our reactions define our character and that life happens when we are making other plans. Be that as it may, superior minds have dealt with the concept of free will without any kind of conclusion and it is my contention that our daily activities belong to us to an extent but our destiny is not our own. I am comfortable in this hybrid zone of free will and choice versus predeterminacy and lack of free will. A theologian (which I am not) would say it is Arminianism versus Calvinism. For me, a utilitarian (at least for now until I find another term to describe my oddly eclectic philosophy of the world), I prefer to accept those strange but joyous events as being glorious yet sporadic divergences exhibited and practiced by angels with some sort of higher functional and pragmatic application.

We, the Tucker family, have kept them busy over the years, maybe even to an exhaustive level. One rather dramatic incident occurred when our son Joel, autistic since birth, was 3 years old. He was dropped off at a friend's house while my wife, a viola player, was at a rehearsal. The house was a new construction of two stories including a children's game room on the 2nd story. Because of fire code, windows are required to be easily opened from the inside. Unfortunately, this means that a firm push on any window will result in that window opening. As the children were playing, Joel pushed against the window, which caused it to open, and he went falling from the window all the way to the ground 2 stories below.

All the children and neighbors heard the cry for help and rushed outside only to see Joel lying on the ground crying. Because of the potential disaster, everyone was afraid to move him for fear of adding problems to any broken bones. Clairissa coincidentally drove up a few minutes later, saw the crowd gathered and asked what was wrong. Upon hearing her voice, Joel got up and ran, yes ran, to her sobbing. She embraced him and in a broken voice, the owner of the home said tearfully he had fallen from the 2nd story window. Clairissa immediately put him in the car and took him to the hospital for x-rays. Aside from a scratch on the back from the window sill, there were no other injuries. He was not hurt at all and within a short time was back to being his same rambunctious self.

As I reflect on this incident, I remain convinced that an angel's hand gently lowered Joel to the ground and offered him protection and comfort. He is surrounded by angels who often have to work diligently to keep him safe from harm. And that is why I believe in angels. I do not understand them, I cannot see them, I do not know if there are many or few of them, or whether they are large or small, male or female, or anything about them, but I am comforted to know that they watch out for Joel. We will do our part to keep them from having to work too hard, but in those rare cases, I appreciate their willingness to step in. I do know this, they are timeless, eternal, ever present, and amaranthine with a beautiful forever quality that defies explanation.